Bless My Soul
by Rhino7
Summary: Being buried alive isn't a memory Namine wants to remember. Luckily, memory is only chalk, and she has the perfect eraser. Rated for thematic elements. One-sided NamPen.


**Bless My Soul**

**By Rhino7**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, its characters, or storyline. This story is mine. The title came from OneRepublic's "Say, All I Need", which I am currently addicted to. This will be the last Twilight Town gang thing I post before starting to write **_**Drums of War**_**, an actual full-length, multi-chapter story with these guys. I've been planning it forever, and this one-shot really got me going to start on it. So fear not, **_**Bless My Soul**_** is not totally stand-alone. These are new waters for me, so please be gentle. Loosely connected to **_**Between Dusk and Dawn**_**. Constructive feedback is always welcome and appreciated!**

**..:--X--:..**

Word got out.

Because secrets never last.

In Namine's experience anyway.

But she had hoped this time would be different.

Blinking in the complete darkness that surrounded her, Namine guessed it wouldn't be.

Now the whole of Twilight Town knew she was a Nobody, an abomination of nature and a product of unethical experiments. She had no heart and she had no true feelings, merely echoes of the emotions of the one whose heart she had been borne from. Flesh and blood humans hated Nobodies. They both needed oxygen and they both bled red. Humans had their own hearts though, so they could afford to be judgmental.

Still, it had been bliss while it lasted. Five whole months of almost being normal, of being accepted, of being loved and cared about. She had made friends, real friends, who stood by her even though she was a monster who could not truly reciprocate their feelings. They had no idea where she was, and a swell of would-be hopelessness burned her eyes.

Namine could understand hatred. She'd seen it every day in Organization XIII. Oh, they couldn't completely hate, but they had seen it at work enough in the world to know how to execute it quite persuasively. She lifted her hands, her fingers finding only the coarse grain of the wood entombing her, and couldn't tell a difference if she opened or closed her eyes. She had never expected to be physically attacked. Mocked, sure. Had offensive graffiti dedicated to her, all right, but being kidnapped in the middle of town and buried alive in a wooden box underground? Now that had been the shocker.

Biting her trembling lower lip, she traced her hands as far as they would go along the walls surrounding her. She had been conscious for all of it, even though they hit her several times, those mild townfolk of innocent Twilight Town. She knew the hole she'd been placed in wasn't more than three feet deep, but it might as well have been miles underground, for all the chances she had of getting herself out or being rescued.

Hayner, Pence, and Olette: they had tried to defend the idea of a Nobody's existence to the natives, but the prejudice was too well established. Nobodies were unnatural and worse than wild animals. They were feared and hated and the people wished only to keep their town 'pure' from such 'atrocities'.

Even to someone who could not feel, that sense of rejection stung.

She inhaled softly, trying not to hyperventilate in the restricted range she had been allotted in the coffin-sized box. What had she done wrong? She hadn't hurt anybody…not since leaving Organization XIII and DiZ's control, anyway. She was trying to atone for her sins, turn over that new leaf, and strive for as normal a life as she felt a Nobody deserved.

Many, obviously, did not find much sentiment to those goals.

Oddly, she felt nothing. Well, obviously she couldn't, but she was bewildered to realize that not even her under-developed sense of emotion was kicking in. No survival instinct, no panic, and no meltdown. She wasn't even feeling claustrophobic. The lack of some rise in emotion, however false, only strengthened her theory.

How did real humans have any more right to exist than she and her kind did? There were flesh and blood humans with real hearts who were terrible people. They killed, they maimed, they raped, and they buried people alive. How was that overlooked instead by a harmless girl who happened to not have a heart? Who was the true monster, here?

It wasn't like it would matter in a few minutes.

She didn't even know how much air she had left, but it couldn't have been much. Swallowing, she stretched her legs and pointed her toes, having lost her sandals somewhere in the abduction. The tips of her toes just brushed the uneven footboard of the coffin. She lifted her hands over her head and couldn't extend her arms past the elbow against the headboard.

Less than six feet long. Just over two feet wide. No more than one foot in height. That was…she bit her lip and moved her arms back to her sides…maybe twelve cubic feet in volume. How much breathable air could fit in that space? She couldn't remember the formula.

She drew another shallow lungful of air and felt her breath shudder as she exhaled.

Namine did not want to die.

The realization made her breathe faster, which did not help her situation any. She cleared her throat and pressed one hand flat against the wood ceiling of her tomb.

"H-help." It came out like a raspy whisper.

The back of her eyes burned and Namine bit her lip.

"Help." She attempted again. "Please."

The blackness yielded nothing, no hope and no lies. The utter silence pressed in on her from all sides and she moved her legs apart, the sides of her calves pressing against the walls of the pine box. She stretched as far spread eagle as she could, which wasn't far, elbows smacking into the walls too.

The tingling sensation of panic was new and foreign, but it crept through her blood like liquid splinters, making her nerves tingle and her pulse accelerate.

"Somebody—Please, help me." She raised her voice. "Help!"

She slapped the wood a few times. She had no idea where she was, but surely someone would hear her, see the freshly turned dirt. Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she gasped in panic, chest heaving. She shut her eyes and kept them closed, trying to calm her breathing, even as she began to taste the carbon dioxide.

"Please." She whimpered, her lips bunching in an attempt to stop short of sobbing.

She was supposed to meet Olette at eight o'clock. It had been almost seven thirty when she was attacked. She had never been late to meet her friends before. Olette would notice that. Maybe she'd find Hayner and Pence and together they would find her before she suffocated.

The utter impossibility of that hope struck her and Namine gasped, shoving her knee into the lid of the wood box, slamming both hands into the wood.

"Help!" She screamed.

She dragged her fingers down the grain of the wood. Baring her fingernails, she started to claw at the ceiling of the death box frantically. I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die.

"Olette!" She yelled. "Hayner! Pence! Help me!" She choked on tears and wailed like a banshee, beating her limbs against the lid of the box.

"What?"

The startled voice could have been a chorus of angels to Namine's ears.

"Help!" She screamed, banging her fists against the box.

"Namine?!" A new voice broke in.

Fresh tears flooded her eyes. "Pence! Hayner! Get me out of here!"

"Go get a shovel or something!" Pence said.

They sounded so close. Namine coughed as her throat clenched for a moment.

"Help! Please, get me out! Please, please!" She screamed.

"Olette, we found her! Get some shovels!" Hayner yelled.

"Namine!" Olette cried out.

"It's getting hard to breathe!" Namine screamed, clawing at the wood above her, feeling the coarse wood tear at her skin.

"We're gonna get you out." Hayner called down.

"Don't worry." Pence chimed in.

They sounded breathless, like they were digging. Getting closer. The spent air pressed against her and Namine coughed again, the edges of her awareness dimming.

"Get me out…"

"Namine!" Pence must have heard her slipping, and his yell dragged her back.

"Pence, I'm scared!"

"It's okay." Hayner cut in. "We're getting close. Just hang in there."

Hands aching, she continued to attack the wood above her.

"Namine!" Olette's voice returned, "Hang on!"

There was a clatter as metal contacted the other side of her coffin and Namine cried out, recoiling from the wood.

"Are you okay? It's okay, you're almost out. It's okay." Olette chanted.

"Hold on." Hayner was muttering. "Do it like a crowbar."

The metal moved and started attacking the corner, where the nails connected the lid to the box walls. Namine continued to beat her fists against the lid.

"I can't—" She gasped, feeling lightheaded as her air supply depleted. "Get me…out…Please…"

"Namine, hang on!" Pence yelled.

Tears ran down her face and she kicked and beat at the wall, trying to get free faster.

Then, like a shaft of light from heaven, dusky light poured into the darkness. Two shovels had their edges dug between the lid and the wall, prizing it open, forcing the nails out of the wood. Hands were just barely visible on the handles, forcing the slit wider.

Her heart broke the sound barrier, pounding at an ungodly speed against her ribs. Frantic, so close to salvation, her limbs took on a life of their own, nearly convulsing in the cramped space.

"Please, get me out!" She shrieked.

**..:--X--:..**

Pence and Hayner gritted their teeth, leaning back on the handles of the shovels. The lid of the pine box was almost completely uncovered, settled just three feet under the muddy, overturned dirt outside Yen Sid's tower.

Namine was screaming incoherently, banging against the walls inside. Pence strained against the shovel, willing it just so much farther…Olette was on her knees at the head of the box, gripping it tightly and pulling with all her might.

The wooden lid buckled, half of the lid flying backward, nearly hitting Olette in the face. Pence released the shovel and he and Hayner hit their knees, grappling at the remaining half of the lid.

"Olette!" Namine cried out from inside, what was visible of her was thrashing.

Olette tossed the broken wood aside, tears streaming from her eyes. "I'm right here."

Pence grabbed the edge of the remaining lid, ripping it upward with as much force as he could manage with the lower angle. Hayner grunted beside him. He'd only stopped swearing in the last five minutes long enough to utter reassurances to Namine.

Then Namine was clawing out of the coffin by herself. Dirty hair, muddy dress, bloody hands, and eyes full of such full blown terror that Pence just opened his arms and she flew into them, her body nearly seizing with her shaking.

"Get her legs. Watch her legs." Hayner ducked, grabbing one of Namine's ankles to keep her flailing limb from slamming against the splintered edges of the coffin.

Pence folded his arms around the girl, practically dragging her lower body from the tomb. She was sobbing hysterically, clinging to his shirt front and pressing her face into his neck.

"Couldn't…too much…dark…air…so scared…" She sobbed brokenly.

"It's okay." Pence looked over to Hayner and Olette over Namine's dirt matted hair.

Olette had one hand over her mouth, one hand gently holding onto Namine's knee. Hayner looked unsure how to help, so he stood up.

"I'm going to get help. She needs a doctor."

Namine shook her head, "Nononononono…"

Olette spun to Hayner. "Yen Sid."

Hayner nodded and took off toward the house.

"I'm sorry…" Namine cried, trembling violently. "Too many…I couldn't—I couldn't run away."

Pence frowned, cupping the back of her head as she buried her face in his shoulder. "Not your fault. You're okay. None of this is your fault. Shh, it's okay. We aren't going to let anything happen to you." He kept his arms around her, holding her close and steady.

"Namine," Olette scooted closer, "Try to calm down. Take steady breaths."

Namine blew out a lungful of air, turning her head to take in a fresh breath. Her ribs shuddered under Pence's hand and he rubbed her back.

"It's okay." He repeated. "You're okay. Who could have done this?" He asked Olette.

Olette shook her head, "We'll worry about that later."

"So…so stupid." Namine quivered. "I couldn't—they knew and they—too many—"

"Hey," Pence pulled her out a little, until he could see her eyes. "Hey, none of this was your fault."

Her sweaty hair clung to the wet streaks on her face, and the dirt and blood discolored her skin. Fresh tears blossomed across her eyes, breaking free. Her chin tightened and her lips pursed thinly, hiding the new breakdown she was fighting. Pence kept rubbing her back, holding her gaze.

"You did nothing wrong." He said firmly.

Her remaining composure collapsed, "Then why did they do this?!"

She toppled forward against him again and he accepted her again, pressing his cheek against the side of her head. "I don't know. I don't know. Easy. It's okay. We're all right here."

Hayner was jogging back over, waving one hand. "He's home. Bring her in. Can she make it?"

Olette scrambled to her feet. "I don't know. She's shaking really bad."

"I don't want—" Namine gasped, "I don't think I can—I'm sorry." Her voice cracked.

"Shh. That's okay." Pence said quietly. "You don't have to do anything. I'll take care of everything. Whatever you want."

"I want to get out of here." Her voice had dropped to a whimper.

He nodded against her temple. "Okay…Okay…Can you stand?"

"I don't…know." She hugged closer to him.

That hardened his resolve. "I've got you." He said softly, pulling her closer and shifting to get his knees under him.

Once he was balanced, he bodily turned her sideways. She curled into him, malleable, and he moved one arm from her neck to slide under her knees. The hand that had been rubbing her back shifted under her shoulders, holding her up.

"Put your arms around my neck and I'll carry you, okay?" He encouraged gently.

She lifted her hands and laced her fingers together on the other side of his neck, arms trembling but holding on for dear life. Her entire body was still shaking, and Pence wished he could just soothe all the terror away. Namine didn't deserve this, to be treated this way, to experience this kind of darkness.

"All right, good job. Just hold on, okay? I'll do all the work, you just hold onto me, okay?" He mumbled into her hair.

Namine's head bobbed weakly, exhausted. Pence took that as assent and hunched over, standing slowly and careful to keep a steady balance. Olette held her hands out supportively, but between Namine's iron grip on his neck and Pence's determination to not let her go, the back-up was not needed. Hayner had stopped jogging over and stood waiting to meet them.

"There's a room on the second floor, if you can get her upstairs." Hayner explained.

"I can get her upstairs." Pence answered quietly, looking past his friends as Hayner offered Olette an 'are you okay?' look.

Yen Sid stood at the front door of his residence, blue robes and pointed hat in place, watching them approach with calculating, eerie wide eyes. Pence kept a stiff upper lip. None of his friends had ever really spoken to the hermit-wizard beyond a few generic greetings. The older man studied Namine down the length of his crooked nose, stepping aside as Pence carried her up the front steps.

"Thank you." Pence nodded his head seriously.

Yen Sid merely held the door, gesturing Hayner and Olette inside before closing the door behind them. Namine shuddered and pressed herself closer and Pence worked his fingers into the fabric of her dress, kneading the skin around her ribs.

"There is a wash room upstairs, as well as a bedroom." His voice was low and rumbling. "If you need anything, my servants will gladly attend you."

"Thank you so much, sir." Olette bowed down in respect, ducking after Pence.

"Young man, come with me." He lifted a hand toward Hayner, "Explain what happened."

Hayner sighed and rubbed the back of his head, "I'll try."

Olette hastened up the stairs after Pence while Hayner followed Yen Sid into one of the first floor rooms. Pence kept up a litany of gentle reassurances in Namine's ear. Her shaking had faded to a dull shivering, goose bumps rising over her legs. She made no verbal response. She hadn't spoken since he'd lifted her up. He silently promised to be there whenever she wanted to talk.

The second floor bedroom was connected to an elegant wash room. Soft, sepia tiled floor blended into ambient gold walls. The bath tub was the size of a Jacuzzi, and the sink counter was larger than a twin mattress. Plush blue towels hung on wall racks, and a silky green nightgown that looked just Namine's size was waiting on a hangar beside the towels.

Face heating slightly, Pence moved his eyes to the bedroom as he and Olette entered it. The queen-sized bed was layered in several blankets and linens, roughly a dozen fluffed pillows propped against the headboard. Soft purple walls gave the room an inviting, relaxing air, and the furniture was simple: two bedside tables, a dresser, and a full length couch against the far wall. Twilight peeked through the swishing silver curtains behind the couch.

"I'll help her clean up." Olette offered, stepping toward the wash room.

"Okay." Pence stammered, feeling suddenly awkward.

As he knelt forward to ease Namine onto the wicker chair beside the sink counter, she shuddered and resisted the movement. She turned her head, eyes carefully closed, tear tracks carving paths through the dirt on her face. He looked down at her. She smelled like dirt and sweat, but she looked beautiful. He swallowed and attempted to lower her again.

"No…" She begged hoarsely.

"It's okay." He said into her hair.

Olette swept to their side, putting a hand gingerly on Namine's back. "Hey, Namine, I'm right here. I'm going to help you clean up. Then we'll get you into some clean, dry clothes and into a big, warm bed." She soothed. "How does that sound?"

Namine opened her eyes tentatively and focused on Olette's face. Pence saw the effort it took her. She was only half conscious. He caught Olette's eye and nodded. Olette put her hands on either side of Namine's waist, holding her steady. Pence withdrew his arms from her torso and reached up, detaching her arms from his neck as tenderly as possible. Her hands were bloody and many of her fingernails were broken.

Pence lowered Namine's hands to her lap and she lifted her eyes to find his.

"Don't leave me." She pleaded. "Please?"

He rubbed her arm, "It's only for a little while, no more than an hour. Olette's gonna take care of you." He smiled for her.

Namine turned to look at Olette, who smiled. "No boys allowed, right?" The brunette offered a meek attempt at humor.

Swallowing, Namine nodded, lifting a hand to hold her forehead. "I'm so tired."

Pence straightened, "You can get all the rest you want as soon as you two have your girl time."

Olette was already turning on the hot water in the tub, keeping one hand on Namine's shoulder. He looked past the girls for a moment to see bloody handprints streaking around his neck, the front of his shirt soaked in tears and mud, his hands dark brown from attacking the dirt mound hiding Namine.

Something nudged his knee and he turned to see a walking broomstick, two angular arms sticking out and prodding at him, gesturing soundlessly toward the stairs. Taking the hint, however odd it was offered, Pence backed out of the wash room, pulling the door closed. The last image of the wash room was of Namine, blue eyes glazed and staring after him, looking helpless and lost.

Swallowing hard, he closed the door and leaned his forehead against the frame for a moment. When the heat had receded from his throat, he turned around to find the broomstick standing beside him expectantly. He lifted an eyebrow. Yen Sid's servants?

"C-Can I, er," He pointed at his blood coated neck with muddy hands. "I need to clean up."

The broomstick made an about-face and started marching on rigid straw bristles down the stairs. Blinking uncertainly, Pence followed the servant downstairs to find Hayner hashing out the details with Yen Sid, while the broomstick hastened with a bucket of water and a towel.

**..:--X--:..**

Namine held her knees to her chest, the warm water lapping up to her shoulders as she sat hunched over in the large bath tub. The gossamer curtain was drawn around the porcelain tub, and she watched absently as Olette carefully folded her filthy white dress over the wicker chair before crossing to the sink and opening the bottles of soap.

"I bet that water feels good, right?" Olette broke the silence, half hearted smile in place.

Namine rested her chin on her knees, grimacing. "My hands hurt."

"Give the pain medicine a few minutes and it'll get better. Do you need help?" Olette held up a blobby sponge.

Namine closed her eyes and nodded only enough to be perceived.

"Okay." Olette remarked casually, shifting the curtain aside just enough to dunk the sponge into the water, a hiss of bubbles escaping as it soaked in the water.

Olette lathered soap onto the sponge until it was a foamy mass connected to her hand. She wordlessly and gently took Namine's arm, running the sponge over the dirt and drying blood that covered her skin. She avoided touching her hands directly, and for that Namine was thankful.

The porcelain base of the tub was cold against the back of her legs and the bottom of her feet, but the water was quickly warming it, erasing the chill from her body. Olette eased her arm back into the water, rinsing off the soap and lifting it again to reveal clear, pale skin.

Both girls remained silent as Olette basically bathed Namine by herself. She was gentle around her hands and before long the water was covered in a thick layer of bubbles and suds. She scrubbed with only enough pressure to clean away the dirt and not a touch harder. She had Namine recline so she could rinse and wash her hair, working her fingers into her hair and kneading her scalp like the perfect older sister or mother figure could. For the first time in hours, Namine began to believe that she was safe. Maybe she was okay. Maybe she could relax.

"All right, all clean." Olette chirped, sounding much lighter than before.

Namine opened her eyes slowly as Olette shifted, wiping her wet hands on the towel hanging by the sink. She sat up in the tub, noting how the water had cooled off while she had zoned out. She lifted her hands sheepishly and grasped the lips of the tub, moving her legs under her in preparation to stand.

"Do you think you can get dressed by yourself?" Olette asked, her voice not assuming or condescending.

"I-I think so." Namine said, her voice hoarse from a night of screaming, her joints loosened by the warm water.

Olette finished drying her hands and smiled, unfolding a fresh, dry towel and holding it out. "Do you want me to step out and give you some privacy?"

Any other day, Namine would have laughed about the concept of privacy after having your best friend bathe you, but she didn't have the gusto to manage it now. She settled for nodding and standing in the tub, taking the proffered towel and pulling over her shoulders.

Olette lingered to make sure she was steady, and then she backed out of the wash room, pushing the door almost closed. She would probably wait outside, just in case. Namine drew a little strength from the back-up and stepped gingerly out of the tub, the tile floor cool and smooth under her bare feet.

It was an arduous task, just toweling her body dry and by the time she had pulled on the blue night dress, her remaining stores of energy had been spent. She sank onto the toilet, flipping the lid down, and propped one elbow on the counter, rubbing her face with the back of her hand. The gown was warm but also cool, soothing on her frayed nerves and over-sensitized skin. She hugged her arms to herself, her tattered hands throbbing.

"Are you okay?" Olette's voice drifted in patiently.

"Yeah, I—" She exhaled. "I think I need help."

Olette poked her head through the door, "Looks like you're fully dressed to me."

"I know, but now I'm too exhausted to get up." Namine pursed her lips.

"Okay." Olette crossed over to her and ducked under Namine's arm, taking her weight and hoisting them both upright. "Onward!" She cheered gently.

Namine's lips twitched and she shuffled after Olette, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other. They made steady progress across the wash room and onto the thick shag carpet of the bedroom. A bed had never looked so deep and inviting. Olette balanced with Namine at the bedside, peeling back several layers of sheets and blankets before letting Namine ease her onto the bed.

She sank onto the mattress with a sigh, her weary bones already drinking in the seemingly endless cushion that the bed provided. Olette helped her swing her legs up and under the blankets before withdrawing to let Namine settle herself.

"Do you need anything? Water? Whiskey? I could bandage your hands for you." Olette offered.

Namine lifted her eyes, studying her palms. The skin along her fingers was torn and many of her fingernails were cracked and broken. She had clawed at that wooden cage like an animal, survival instincts taking precedence over the pain. She didn't want to die. She hadn't died.

"Where are we?" She asked, surprised to realize she hadn't wondered before.

"Oh, this is Yen Sid's house. He's a sorcerer." Olette filled in.

"Right." Namine's eyes remained fixed on her hands. "C-Could you help me with my hands?"

"Of course." Olette opened one of the bedside table drawers and pulled out a small first aid kit. "It must be really cool being a sorcerer." She popped open the kit.

"You'd think so." Namine remarked and looked at Olette. "Did you know he trained King Mickey everything His Majesty knows in the art of magic?"

"Wow." Olette twisted the cap off a bottle of antiseptic. "He must really know his stuff."

Namine watched her dampen a cotton ball in the cleaning solution and she offered a hand as the first victim. Olette daubed at the open wounds gently, moving the material in soft strokes over the broken skin. It still stung, but it wasn't as bad as Namine had thought.

"I think I spotted one of his 'servants'." Olette grinned. "Broomsticks with arms, huh?"

"One of the king's inventions." Namine replied.

Olette nodded understandingly, "Gosh, it must be such a trip to know you have the power to do something like that, make the inanimate animate and change whatever you want."

"It's not that simple."

"Well, it never is, but I saw Sora use an Ice Spell once, and it was beautiful." Olette slowed her motions of unwinding the gauze bandages. "It was like the ice just grew out of his hands, weaving like vines around the bad guy and stopping him in his tracks. That kind of power…" She shook her head.

Namine chewed her bottom lip. If only she could dwell in the plain of thought that Olette enjoyed: that peaceful naivety that allowed her to dream about powers and magic and heroes. Her own dreams were falsehoods, the reverberating memories of how hope SHOULD feel, but she could never experience. Magic wasn't beautiful, not to her. It was manipulative and cold and stealthy. And heroes simply didn't exist. At least not in her experience.

Then again, she was alive, so maybe this time had been different.

"So." Olette snapped back to herself and unwound a decent length of gauze. "Let me just wrap you up and then I'll get out of your way and let you sleep."

Namine smiled a small smile, but only for Olette's sake. She'd put so much effort into being cheerful, taking care of Namine so patiently. She deserved more than a tiny smile, but it was all Namine could manage, so it would have to do.

Olette placed bandage pads over Namine's palms, wrapping the gauze dressing around and around her hand, individually wrapping her fingers and tying off the ends. She repeated the process on her other hand before making sure they were tight enough, but not too tight. Namine bent her fingers a little, told Olette that her circulation was fine and the bandages were comfortable, and Olette nodded in satisfaction and cleaned up the first aid kit.

"Do you want to talk about—" Olette fidgeted.

"Not really." Namine answered quickly. "Not yet."

Her friend accepted that and stood up. "Well, if you need anything, anything at all, I can stay or I can go. Whatever you want."

Namine reclined into the pillows. "Actually…I-I kinda need to talk to Pence."

Olette blinked and nodded. "Sure, yeah, of course. I'll…I'll go get him."

"Olette?" Namine blurted.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Olette smiled warmly, "What're friends for, right?"

Namine watched her leave and closed her eyes, biting her lip. Magic was not beautiful or amazing or anything of the romantic sort when you were considered a witch. The power Olette found so dreamy and fantastical, Namine knew to be hollow and seducing. She had employed those dark arts only to twist someone's mind, bend and break their memories, their life, and completely rearrange their mind to her will…The Organization's will…but she had gone along with it. By the time she'd come to her senses and ceased to follow their orders, she still had a year's work of piecing those shattered minds back together, the way they were, erasing herself in the process.

Magic could still have its merits though.

She looked at her hand. The skills she'd used to erase Sora's false memories were part of a medieval art, not new to the sorcerer's world. Since she'd left DiZ, she had never attempted to use her powers again. She had sworn that her curse would not define her. She was a Nobody, but that did not put her in a box. Unfortunately, it was enough of a sin to the people of Twilight Town.

Her nose burned and her vision blurred, but Namine bit it all back.

It wouldn't matter. She had never used her talent for erasing memories on herself before. It had always sounded stupid and not well thought through. Maybe Yen Sid could do it for her. He would be reluctant. Memories were precious and to be respected and learned from, but surely he had never experienced what she had that evening.

Being buried alive...Bile rose in her throat but she bit it back too.

He could make it all go away.

That's all she wanted.

To forget this day had ever happened.

Namine sank deeper into the comfort of the bed and closed her eyes, determined to talk to Yen Sid after she spoke with Pence and apologized for imploding on him.

**..:--X--:..**

After an hour, Olette had clomped down the stairs to the study where Hayner was pacing angrily. Yen Sid watched him stalk back and forth musingly, and Pence rubbed at his eyes.

"When I get my hands on those disgusting…lowlife…dickless…bastards…" Hayner was snarling. "They're gonna wish they were insects, so I could just step on them and—" he stomped the floor and pretended to squish something on the carpet.

Pence looked over when Olette walked in, her shirt front wet but her face more relaxed.

"How is she?" He asked.

Olette shoved her hands into her pockets. "She's resting now, all cleaned up and comfortable." She glanced over at Hayner, who'd paused in his venting. "I—I cleaned up her hands, but I'm not a nurse or anything," She lifted her shoulders to Yen Sid.

The older man folded high knuckled fingers. "I'm sure you did more than efficiently."

Olette seemed to relax and she looked at Pence again. "She wants to talk to you."

Pence sat up, more than a little surprised. "Me?"

"Yeah, but she's really tired, so you might wanna—" She jerked her head toward the stairs.

Pence shot to his feet. "Thanks."

He hurried out of the study and up the stairs just shy of a jog, pausing a moment to slow down before knocking lightly on the door. What was did Namine need from him? Was she still upset? He mentally slapped himself. Of course she was still upset. She had been buried alive. He clenched his fists, biting back the rage. He'd help Hayner deal with those scumbags later. Right now Namine wanted to talk to him, and that was all that mattered.

"Come in." She sounded hoarse and heavy with fatigue, but not as stricken as earlier.

Pence opened the door and smiled for her. "Hey there."

Namine was covered in blankets and burrowed into two marshmallow pillows. Her hair was wet and clinging to her skull. Her eyes were glazed with exhaustion and her face was pale. She still looked a little shaky, but she wasn't trembling anymore, visibly at least. Her hands were bandaged and she looked so frail and small in the giant bed. God, she was beautiful.

"Hi." She gave a valiant attempt at smiling.

He spotted another wicker chair against the wall and dragged it over beside the bed, dropping into it. "Feeling better?" He offered, feeling suddenly sheepish.

She shifted under the blankets. "I will by tomorrow."

He blinked and tilted his head, "Olette said you wanted to talk to me?"

She nodded, dropping her eyes to her hands, fidgeting. "I…I wanted to apologize."

"Namine—"

"No." She sniffed. "I was scared and I shouldn't have—" She collected herself. "I'm sorry for falling apart like that, all over you."

Pence grimaced, "Don't be sorry for that. You had every right to react the way you did. I care about you…Hayner and Olette do too…What're friends for?"

She smiled a little after that, but the hollowness in her eyes didn't fade. "I know you do, and—and you guys are the best friends I've ever had." She rubbed her wrist absently. "I guess I just didn't—I didn't realize people hated me that much."

Her shoulders trembled and Pence leaned forward. "They don't hate you. They had no right to do that to you. They just…they're stupid." He bit his lower lip and looked at her hands. "They just don't understand."

"They called me a monster." She murmured. "And I don't—I understand that."

"No." He said sternly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, closer to her. "Don't you think that for a second. You are NOT a monster. You're a person."

"I'm a Nob—"

He shook his head, "I don't care. You're a person who's real and has real feelings and emotions. I saw it out there." He gestured toward the door. "Those were not fake emotions. No one is that good of an actor."

She looked unsure, and he studied her hands again. Tattered and broken, bleeding and covered in gauze. The lid of the coffin had been clawed and bloody. Namine had attacked the walls of her tomb in frenzied, panic-stricken hysteria trying to escape. That was not the act of someone who didn't think she existed in the first place. These were the hands of a fighter, of a survivor, and of someone in pain.

Swallowing hard, Pence reached out and gently took one of those strong hands, watching her fingers curl around his in response. She watched their hands too. They stayed like that for a minute or so before she broke the silence.

"I don't think I can handle knowing that those people tried to kill me." She said softly.

"I'll make sure they pay for this." He met her eyes. "I promise."

She bit her lip, heat swelling in her throat, "I know you will, but I don't want to remember that they hate me."

He blinked, her words confusing him. "What are—"

"The magic I used to erase Sora's memories—"

"Namine—"

"I want Yen Sid to use it on me."

"Are you sure?" He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. "I mean, I know it hurts and seems unbearable right now, but won't you wonder tomorrow why you can't remember today?"

She shook her head, eyes glistening moistly. "He can make something up. Something normal and common…that we do all the time…Like, today we four just hung out at the Usual Spot, had some ice cream, and ignored our homework." She hiccupped, looking at him. "Anything but this."

"So…he would just erase it all? Replace it with something better?" Pence tried to understand.

She nodded, "He could erase it for you guys too. None of us will have to remember."

"I don't know…" He didn't want to get rid of any memory that involved Namine. How could he put that into words though? Now was not the time for that. "It's up to you."

She closed her eyes. "I don't want to hurt anymore."

He smiled sympathetically, "That's part of what makes you normal. Hurt comes with being human. And don't say you're not human."

The air felt heavy, and Namine kept her eyes closed. Pence wasn't sure if she was hiding tears or trying not to fall asleep. She needed to rest. When he started to stand and release her hand, her eyes fell open and lifted to him.

"Why are you guys so good to me?" She whispered.

He sank back to sit on the bed. "Why are you convinced you don't deserve it?"

She averted her eyes at that, and Pence bit the inside of his cheek.

"But explain the memory thing to me." He started. "Yen Sid would replace EVERY second of today, starting from when you woke up this morning to when you fall asleep in about two minutes?"

"Right." She latched onto the small shift in conversation. "He would have to, otherwise I would wonder why I remembered being in his tower but not…what happened before."

Her eyelids were looking heavy, so Pence knew he should wrap this up.

"So you won't even remember this conversation?" He gestured between them.

She moved some hair from her eyes. "I'm sorry, I just don't know what else to do."

He shook his head, "I'm not blaming you. It's okay. I understand." Trying to harden his resolve, he moved his hand to hold her wrist, just above the bandaging. "I guess if you aren't going to remember, I can go ahead and make a small confession."

She blinked up at him. "What is it?"

Pence leaned forward, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the smell of watermelon shampoo. "I think you're beautiful."

The word was out.

Secrets never last.

Feeling a thousand pounds lighter, he withdrew, standing up and gently taking his hand back. "I'll tell Yen Sid you need to see him."

Her eyes, impossibly blue and wide, followed him. "Pence…"

"And I'll explain everything to Hayner and Olette."

"Wait—"

"It's okay." He waved a hand. "Really, it'll be all right. I hope you feel better tomorrow."

With that, he covered the last few steps and backed out of the room, quietly closing the door and leaning against the wall. It was so unfair. Namine deserved so much better than this town was giving her. Why those idiots couldn't see how amazing she was, he would never understand. Maybe forgetting today had ever happened was a good idea.

He didn't want to forget the smell of her hair, her hand in his, or the look in her eyes when he closed the door. If she wanted to forget, it was her choice, but he knew he couldn't do it.

Taking a moment to pull himself together, Pence headed downstairs and found Olette and Hayner sitting side by side in the study, talking. They cut off abruptly when he walked in, their eyes snapping to his in unison expectantly. Yen Sid was behind his desk, poring over a massive, ancient-looking spellbook.

"She—" He cleared his throat, "She wants to speak with you, sir."

Yen Sid bowed his head in acknowledgment, almost as though he had been expecting the request. He stood and moved around the desk, robes flowing around him, and made to sweep out of the study. He slowed as he reached Pence, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He looked to Hayner and Olette. "This won't take long. Make yourselves comfortable."

Then he left, and Hayner and Olette looked to Pence.

"Is she okay?" Hayner asked first.

Pence dropped in defeat into the nearest chair. "She will be tomorrow."

His friends looked confused, but they didn't press further. Pence sat back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. He had just told his biggest secret to the one person it concerned, and tomorrow she wouldn't even remember. Maybe it was for the best. Forgetting was never for the best. In his experience anyway. He could tell her again…later…when she wouldn't want to forget.

He hoped next time would be different.


End file.
